194 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING 
he must have run. On another occasion a little 
covert was being driven over a turnpike-road. Just 
at the end of the beat a cock pheasant fell in the 
middle of the road, but had vanished by the time 
the beaters appeared. The shooter of this pheasant 
was very much annoyed when the beaters declared 
they could not see it, and said he knew it was dead 
because he had seen it run into the ditch. 
The etiquette of shooting does not permit a guest 
to choose his own stand, certainly not to intrude 
upon the stands of his fellow-guests. I have known 
plenty of guests who have longed to shift their 
stand, but only one who actually did so, and he 
was a man who had been living in the colonies for 
many years. I was standing next to him; neither 
of us had had a shot that beat, while the forward 
guns were having a lively time. At last he could 
endure it no longer, shouted to me, ‘ Let's trek to 
where the sport hums,’ and off he went. 
The shooter who acts the part of Fidgety Phil 
does not realize the extent to which he lessens his 
chance of getting shots. Even if you move scarcely 
enough to’ breathe, there is not much chance of 
a shot at a pheasant which is in sight on the ground, 
and none at all if you shuffle about. There is 
nothing to be gained by fidgeting—that is to say, 
by increasing the chance that game will see you and 
turn back in good time. How many partridges 
have received a timely hint to break back from a 
